


Coming Clean

by Emmeg, starsandsunflowers, sunflowersandstars (Emmeg)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort Sex, Comfort/Angst, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Rehab, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Drugs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, I'm adding characters as I go, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sex, Sick Character, Some characters are staff, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, This is a story about drug addiction, This starts as an OiKuroo, but the endgames are IwaOi and BoKuroo, descriptions of drug addiction and withdrawl, descriptions of vomiting, some characters are patients, this is set in a rehab facility
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2018-12-31 03:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12123678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmeg/pseuds/Emmeg, https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandsunflowers/pseuds/starsandsunflowers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmeg/pseuds/sunflowersandstars
Summary: Drug addiction is scary. Making the choice to come clean is fucking terrifying.





	1. Oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> *Whew*
> 
> Well, here goes. I've had this idea for literally years and have been sketching out scenes for a while. I wasn't sure if I'd ever post it, but I'm going for it. I have more chapters planned, but with my life it may take a while for updates! 
> 
> I have not used drugs, abused drugs, had an addiction, or recovered from one. Nor have I spent time in a rehab facility. This story is a work of pure fiction and if I get things wrong or inaccurate I'm sorry. Feel free to point things out, but I may or may not change them depending on their relevance to the plot. Thanks in advance! (Please read at your own discretion and if I missed a tag, let me know)

11:46.

The analog clock switches its last number from a five to a six, signaling to Oikawa that he can breathe again. He sighs out long and hard and breathes in shallowly. Focusing on the numbers helps calm him a little, but makes time crawl as well. He’s not entirely sure if that’s due to just the nature of watching a clock, or if it’s the effect of all the pills he just took. The neon bottles and half-drunk glasses of booze shimmer around him in the soft glow of a lamp, a twinkling array of toxins reminding him of oblivion soon to come. With everything in his system, his own death is pretty much guaranteed at some point tonight, but he can’t shake the thought that something will go wrong. That he’ll just end up in a coma or vomit up all his efforts. And a darker thought, hidden beneath the rest resurfaces, that maybe, deep-down, he wants things to go wrong. Maybe his will to live is stronger than the desire to die. The thought nearly distracts him from the trembling that’s started in his hands.

11:47.

The numbers switch again and Oikawa takes a long shuddering breath. His whole body seems to be shaking now. Focusing on the clock numbers turns them into red blobs which he can then refocus back into their original shapes. At the moment, they seem to be disintegrating right before his eyes. He needs it to change to 11:48 so he can breathe again, according to the arbitrary rules he has set up in his mind, but Oikawa can’t make out the numbers at all anymore. They have become meaningless red laser particles, shooting around his head. He leans forward, and instantly feels a wave of intense nausea wash over him.

He gasps and ducks his head into his chest taking slow, labored breaths. He’s definitely going to puke. With very little grace, he sinks into a horizontal position on the hardwood panels of the floor and tries to read the clock again. From this new angle, the red laser beams seem to shoot right over the top of his head, preventing him from reading the time. His mouth has that dry and heavy feeling it gets right before vomiting and everything in the room seems to be swirling around his prone form.

Oikawa slides his hand to his phone lying a little ways away and presses the home button. It lights up and flashes 11:49 over the faces of his sister and nephew, both of whom are pretending to cram whole ice cream cones into their mouths. The picture has been his lock screen for so many months, it lost all meaning long ago. Now the memory comes flooding back with perfect clarity. The way his sister was snorting as she laughed, the way drops of cold ice cream got all over the sleeve of his shirt while he tried to take the photo, and the way Takeru’s mouth got all numb and he couldn’t talk normally for a few minutes.

Now choking back both tears and vomit, Oikawa unlocks the phone and presses the emergency numbers he’s never actually had to type out before.

“Hello? I have an emergency. I think I’ve just overdosed.”

***

“I’m shooting up. You?” Yasuko’s eyebrow arches as she asks the question. Kuroo already feels pretty fucked, but he also knows he’ll be craving a high again in just another hour or so.

“Gimme a small one.” He knows Yasuko thinks he’s a bit of a wimp, but the eye-roll she gives him seems completely unwarranted since she should know he’s still coming down off the last one. “What?”

She doesn’t say anything, her face revealing all her gentle exasperation and annoyance at once.

Kuroo’s phone vibrates. It’s been going off all afternoon, making him jolt each time with the loud and insistent noises it makes against the bedside table.

“Who is it?”

Kuroo’s been ignoring the texts, but now Yasuko’s drawing attention to it, he leans across the bed they share to pick up the phone. He uses the opportunity to brush her braless breasts, nipples just visible through the sheer fabric of her tank top. She ignores the touch and moves to prepare their injections on the table, deft fingers flitting over to pick up the lighter before moving to the actual package of heroin.

The messages are all from Kenma, which is strange because they haven’t actually talked in over a year. “Just an old friend.”

Kuroo’s barely spared his childhood friend a thought in the past few months, immersed as he has been in Yasuko, her fast-paced life, eccentric friends, and new and exciting adventures.

She’s something Kuroo never thought he would be into. Dark, dangerous, sexy, loud and self-assured. With Yasuko things are just a little more fast-paced, a little more vibrant, a little more exciting. Whether they are speeding through the darkened city in one of her expensive cars, making love in her enormous bed, or on the nod, tranced into a state of total oblivion right next to each other while also galaxies apart.

The drugs are something he’d never thought he’d be into either. Yet here he is, on the cusp of his second dose of the day. They have an addictive quality, sure. But Kuroo has found himself genuinely enjoying the intense rush of an initial shoot-up and loves the hours of drowsy, half-awake hallucinations even more.

Reading the messages in his hand, he sees Kenma sent the standard, “it’s been a while, we should meet up” text that reeks of a false acquaintance rather than what they are, or were, to each other. The ones below that are a little weirder. Something about talking to his mom and his old boss. Did he find out he lost his job?

Kuroo is finding it increasingly difficult to read the tiny letters. He also knows he has a rush coming so there’s really little point in trying to decipher what Kenma’s trying to tell him. Tossing the phone aside somewhere in the covers, he leans over Yasuko’s back. She’s now steadily pulling the heroin into two long, thin syringes. He kisses her neck and continues down to her shoulder while holding out one arm. Finally, she turns to face him, one syringe at the ready. He pulls her close and they kiss for a moment, lips lingering. They both have one arm out at an awkward angle, Kuroo anticipating the injection, Yasuko still holding the needle aloft. Then with a flourish, she whips out one of her silk scarves and grabs his outstretched wrist.

“Help me tie it.” She grunts, winding it one-handed around his bicep. He takes over, holding both ends taught and flexing his hand absently while Yasuko flicks the veins as they become more and more visible in the juncture of his elbow. “Ready, Big Guy?”

“Sure.”

He watches in fascination as the drug is squeezed into his arm. Yasuko pulls it out and releases him, taking the scarf with her. Kuroo lays back in the bed, body tingling with chills as he awaits the incoming rush. Yasuko shoots up next to him and he feels the bed shift when she lies down and curls around his back.

It was a small dose, and the rush isn’t as powerful. But he almost immediately feels a weightlessness. A sense of serene calm envelops him and he can watch without emotion as the poster on Yasuko's wall begins to swirl gently, pulling his consciousness inside. Everything’s moving at a glacier-like pace, but also catapulting him into places inside the poster he’s never been before. For the next few minutes, Kuroo forgets about Kenma, his own name, and the world at large.

***

Oikawa hasn’t cried yet. He feels like he should have at some point. Maybe during his attempted suicide, perhaps when he was getting his stomach pumped, or an hour ago when he took a call from his sister. She’s coming in just a few minutes. All he feels is a growing sense of shame and embarrassment. She’s definitely going to cry.

Is he a monster? Any other sense of discomfort in his life and usually he’d be reaching for the tissues. Now that he’s had a true life and death crisis, all he can do is stare at the dingy, tiled ceiling, dry-eyed and dead inside.

The door opens and his nurse enters, followed closely by his sister.

She’s in a state. There’s no other word for it. The red-ringed, furious eyes are partially hidden by tangled hair and long, stringy bangs. Her clothes look disheveled like she just got out of the closet and didn’t bother to rearrange them in the mirror. When she sees him lying on the bed she shoots him a poisonous glare.

The nurse finishes up her routine checks and makes a note on the whiteboard while Oikawa moves to sit up.

“I’ll shut this on my way out.” she announces somewhat unnecessarily, clicking the door behind her.

“How dare you!”

Oikawa flinches at his sister’s voice even though it’s thin and shaking, rather than loud and angry like he expected.

“Toru.” She pauses to draw in a long, heaving gasp. “How dare you!”

He stays silent. What can he say? What is there left to tell her? She already knows everything he was hiding, knows all his secrets now.

“What were you thinking?”

Oikawa breaks her gaze. The tears are coming and he can’t stand to watch. Not his own, but sure enough, her familiar loud sniffing starts up. A creak signals her moving to sit on the bed. He chances a glance and sees thick streaks of wet traveling down Sumiko Oikawa’s cheeks, but she doesn’t move to wipe them away. Her hands stay still, clenched into fists on his hospital blankets.

“Toru.” She says again, her voice thick and croaky. “What the fuck?”

He looks away.

His throat burns from having a tube jammed down it hours before and from the subsequent vomiting. His arm hurts where they drew blood. His head is pounding from a thick, steady headache. But his eyes remain dry.

“What happened?”

Since his gaze is focused elsewhere, he doesn’t expect the soft hand to his cheek. He jerks up in surprise as she latches on with both hands on either side of his face. Slowly he brings his own up and circles his hands around her slim wrists.

“I overdosed.”

“On what?”

“Painkillers.”

“How long?” She takes a breath and sniffs. “How long have you been taking them?”

Oikawa focuses on one of the lines her tears have made down her face. A droplet wobbles on her chin. “Since the surgery.”

The fingers against his skin begin to tremble and she makes a choking noise. He looks up to see more tears spill out of her eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He blinks.  _ Isn’t that obvious? _ “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Toru.” Sumiko starts crying in earnest and pulls him into her arms. She holds him tight against her, and gradually Oikawa lessens the stiffness in his spine.

“I don’t care.” Sumiko is sobbing into his shoulder. “I don’t care about the drugs, or that you didn’t call me in over a year. I don’t care. I just want you to be okay.”

Oikawa feels his next exhale get stuck in his already raw throat and, inevitably, the tears finally begin to fall.

***

Kuroo’s brought back to semi-consciousness by something repeatedly banging against his back. He feels like he’s been aware of the motion for some time, but is only now able to move to investigate. Though things are still swirling and unfocused in his drug-clouded vision, he picks himself up and blearily rolls over to face Yasuko.

It takes a long time for him to understand what movements she’s making and what they mean. He’s still under the influence, feeling the overwhelming calmness, peace, and contentment that comes with nodding off, so watching Yasuko choke and cough on her own vomit isn’t making a whole lot of sense to his brain. Her eyes are still half-lidded with the dose while her limbs shake and tremble limply, in time with her coughing. Kuroo still doesn’t have enough urgency in his brain to make himself move more than an inch, but underneath the haze, he recognizes something is very wrong.

With a monumental effort, he crawls forward and pushes Yasuko onto her side. Her coughing immediately takes on a different sound with her airways clearing. Vomit leaks out in pools around her mouth and nose. He smacks a hand against her back and she coughs up more spit and bile onto the sheets. Wearily Kuroo collapses back onto the mattress. His heart is racing and his skin is starting to tingle with invisible itches that usually occur during a high.

Is Yasuko dead?

The mattress is still shuddering with her coughing and retching, so probably not.

Is she going to die?

Kuroo curls up into the fetal position, his back toward his girlfriend.

She definitely almost died.

The thought presses through his drug-fogged state enough to kill his buzz sufficiently. Now all he can feel is an uncomfortable itch traveling across his skin and a heavy fog smothering his brain. For the first time in his life, he can’t wait for the high to wear off.


	2. Adjustments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa and Kuroo adjust to life at a recovery center.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this one out quick! Probably the one and only time:) I have a few more chapters already planned tho, so stay tuned.

Oikawa didn’t know it was possible to get bored of nightmares. That is until he wakes up gasping and shaking after his third of the night. It’s still terrifying each time he has to jerk awake to the image of someone’s face splattered with blood, the sensation of insects crawling out of his own mouth, or even the unknown touch of something oozing and slimy against his skin. But after doing it more than once a night for the past three nights, the whole arrangement has somewhat lost its novelty. Throwing back the covers, he lets out a shuddery breath and curls up on his side so the sweat pooling in his armpits and down his back can dry more quickly. He can’t remember what this particular nightmare was about, only dwell in the general feeling of unease and jitteriness that comes afterward. He does feel a lot more alert now, so sleep probably isn’t a possibility. The clock on the other side of the room makes that clear.

Slowly he moves into a sitting position. Just a few weeks of detox has taught him that anytime going from horizontal to vertical is required, the blood seems to drain from his skull completely. He’s already lost consciousness twice just getting out of bed in the morning. Moving slowly does help, but he still has to spend several minutes hunched over until the dizziness fades. He reaches for his half-full glass of water on the nightstand and takes a few steadying gulps.

Oikawa decides that maybe since he has nothing to do for the next three hours, he’ll go bother the guy-next-door. Pay him back for doing the same to him yesterday morning at about 4 O'clock. Anything sounds more exciting and much less lonely than sitting in bed trying to avoid another nightmare. He also suddenly has a surge of sympathy that was very much lacking for said-neighbor this time yesterday.

He slides out of bed and opens his door cautiously. The center he’s come to isn’t exactly fastidious when it comes to keeping residents apart, but they do a standard job with other types of security, so he can’t complain too much. After making a quick check of the hallway he dances barefoot along it to the next nearest door. It seems Kuroo, or whatever his name is, doesn’t have a lock on his room either. He twists the knob tightly so it closes without a click in the quiet darkness.

Making his way over to the lump on the mattress, Oikawa’s eyes adjust further and he can make out his neighbor facedown on the sheets. The pillows bunched up over his head are held in place by spindly arms thrown every which way. The closer he gets to the buried head, the more Oikawa begins to make out soft moaning and humming noises issuing from underneath. It’s like listening to a little kid or a dog as they dream, with lots of lip-smacking, half mumbled sounds that are almost words and long sighs.

“Hey.” his whisper sounds like harsh hissing in the muffled quiet of the room, at odds with the lower-pitched groans coming from the bed. “Hey, Asshole, wake up.”

This only elicits more muffled moaning.

Oikawa kneels with one knee on the mattress and shakes at a bony shoulder. “Hey, get up.”

With a long, rattling gasp, the pillows are pushed back and his neighbor pushes up onto an elbow, blinking blearing into the darkness.

“What? Who's’ there? What’s happening?”

“I’m paying you back for yesterday,” Oikawa informs him. “I can’t sleep.”

“Ugh.” Kuroo, if that is his name, sits up properly against the pillows and pulls the comforter out from under Oikawa’s knee to bundle around his wiry frame. This gives Oikawa a chance to move completely onto the bed. He sits cross-legged facing his fellow recovering addict.

The man’s hair is a total disaster, pushed this way and that from shifting under the pillows has it casting spiky shadows in the dim light of the moon through the blinds. He’s wearing the center’s standard-issued drawstring pants paired with an old Pearl Jam shirt. The avocado pit seems to stare emptily at him while Kuroo forces more venom into his own stare.

“Kuroo, right?” Oikawa starts off a little hesitantly.

Yesterday they hadn’t bothered with introductions. Oikawa had just been rudely interrupted during his REM cycle while the other just launched into a philosophical discussion about the taste of pasta while high versus sober.

“Yeah, Tetsuro’s fine.” He leans back and closes his eyes briefly, like a cat pretending to sleep. “What do I call you? Besides Dollface.”

“Dollface?” Oikawa grimaces. “You can call me Toru. Tetsu-chan.” He adds the nickname for spite.

“Sounds good, Doll.” He accepts Oikawa’s given nickname easily. “So what brings you here? Nightmares?”

It’s unfair how accurate the first guess is. “Yeah.”

“Dude, right?” his eyes flash open again, this time with more sincerity. “Sometimes they’re more trippy than trips I’ve had.”

He nods along.

“So what was it about?”

“Huh?”

“The nightmare.”

“Oh.” Oikawa sighs and averts his gaze to the wallpaper on the other side of the room. “Nothing really. Can’t remember a lot of it, to tell the truth.”

Tetsuro blinks at him and shifts to get more comfortable in his comforter cocoon. “What do you usually dream about?”

He shrugs. “Family, I guess. My sister and brother. My nephew. Mom and Dad.” he glances up quickly before continuing. “Seem to have a lot of dreams about falling down into holes and getting stuck there.”

“Yeah. I have a lot of dreams where people want me to pilot a plane, even though I don’t know how.”

Oikawa snorts. This is starting to sound like another counseling or group therapy session so he tries to change the subject quickly. “What about wet dreams?”

“Since I’ve been in here?” Tetsuro shakes his head. “It’s been pretty dry for me.” He’s looking at him warily now.

Oikawa thought it might lighten the mood, but judging by Tetsuro’s face he’s brought up something awkward. So many topics now seem taboo to talk about. He’s never associated with many other drug users, keeping his own dependence on painkillers a tightly-lidded secret for so long. Of course, he could be overanalyzing this whole exchange. Maybe he’s just annoyed at being woken up.

“Sorry, I hardly know you. I hope that wasn’t rude.”

“Dude.” Tetsuro waves a hand from beneath the blanket. “It’s three in morning. Any topic is fair game.” He suddenly shivers, the blanket vibrating along with him.

“Cold, Tetsu-chan?”

“I’ve been having, like, crazy chills.”

“Tell me about it. This is like the worst flu I’ve ever had. And it just keeps going.”

Tetsuro nods then reaches out his arms in a beckoning gesture.” Warm me up?” He pleads.

Oikawa makes a face and narrows his eyes. “Seriously?”

“Please?”

He shuffles over to the other’s side and pokes at him. “Let me in. You’ll warm up faster if we’re both underneath.”

Tetsuro obliges and as he’s crawling into the comforter, jolts with another shudder before making a dramatic show of nuzzling his bedhead up against his shoulder. “Soo cooold.”

Oikawa places an uncertain arm around him and feels the goosebumps and soft shivering of his skin beneath the thin T-shirt. “You gonna live?”

“Maybe.” He lets his arms wind around Oikawa as well. “Maybe I’ll end up dying in here.”

“Well, don’t do it tonight. I don’t want to become a suspect.”

Tetsuro gasps. “I knew it. You were planning to murder me.”

He should probably feel weird. Snuggling up with another guy like this.

Because of his own insecurities and the drugs, he was never very open or romantic with other people. Oikawa’s only come out to one other person and was too afraid of acting on his feelings to ever start a relationship in the past. Yet somehow, he already feels close to Tetsuro. He feels bare here. Like everyone already knows his secrets and weaknesses, or can at least guess at them.

Hell, he already knows Tetsuro is recovering from intravenous heroin addiction. A drug Oikawa never even considered trying, though on some level was already addicted to, just without the needles. The only other thing he knows about Kuroo is that he has a girlfriend, and he only knows that because he calls and leaves her voicemails every day and the office phone is located in a very echo-y hallway. This fact alone makes this whole cuddling business strictly platonic, and therefore safe from anything Oikawa might hope could happen. _Hope?_

He lets his arm slide off Tetsuro’s waist and turns to stare at the blank wall on the other side of the room. His neighbor makes a high keening noise of complaint and shivers again. Reluctantly, Oikawa lets his arm return to its place on Tetsuro’s side and rubs it quickly up and down. Their shared space under the blankets is already warming up, but his shivering doesn’t stop.

“Tell me a story, Dollface.” He voice is a pouty imitation of a child. “Tell me how you achieved your perfect pores.”

“Regular exfoliation.” comes his dry response.

“Tell me another story.”

“Fine.” Oikawa tries not to notice how Tetsuro’s shifted so he’s leaning completely against him, though he reminds him by shuddering at regular intervals. “Once upon a time,” he begins, “there was this guy who couldn’t stop shivering.”

“Oh, god,” he says in mock horror. “What happened to him?”

“Hmm..” Oikawa runs his hand down his side again. “He got under the covers with a strange man from across the hall.”

“Kinky,” Tetsuro smirks up at him.

Oikawa feels himself blush but flutters his eyelashes back. “It was," he assures him. “They spent the night in passionate embrace.”

Tetsuro nudges him. “Don’t leave out any details.”

“It was one of the most romantic nights of his life and the warmth of their love kept him from shivering.”

“Wow. Cheesy.”

“Hush. It’s a very serious story, you know.”

“Right, right. So what happens? Do the man and this stranger end up together?”

Oikawa pauses. “I don’t know.” He admits.

“Well,” Tetsuro shuffles further up against his side and tugs at him until they are both horizontal beneath the comforter. “Maybe that part of the story can wait until later. I’m pretty tired.”

“Mmm..” Oikawa agrees and folds a pillow under his head. “Sounds good.”

He’s probably going to regret falling asleep here once morning comes and the staff finds them. But it’s nice and warm next to Tetsuro, he doesn’t feel as achingly empty anymore, and for the first time in a while, he isn’t afraid of nightmares. Maybe just this once, it'll be okay.

 

***

 

Kuroo is dreaming about hell. He’s burning up, all around him are flames, white-hot coals, and swirling smoke. He’s sweating like he just ran a mile and hot gusts of hellish fire wind are still blowing against the back of his neck. Feeling disoriented, he twists to get free of the sweat-soaked sheets and heavy comforter only to face Toru curled up behind him. Warm, slow breaths fan out over his face.

_Oh yeah._

Kuroo had almost forgotten that he fell asleep here last night.

Shaking out a few relieved breaths, he manages to free himself of the bedding and finds his way over the chair in the corner of the room. At the moment it’s covered in old clothes, but Kuroo sits atop them anyway. He allows himself a few minutes to breathe, watching as Toru’s chest slowly rises and falls under the blankets on the bed.

The other man is peaceful in sleep, his face relaxed and childlike, feathered hair smushed up against the side of his face. It seemed for a moment that all Kuroo’s thrashing was going to wake him, but now that the bed’s empty, he stubbornly clings to sleep. Kuroo sighs before making his way to the door. He spares the other a glance before clicking the door closed behind him. He owes him a little extra shut-eye anyway.

Kuroo spends some time in the facility’s shared bathroom, washing his face, trying to tame his hair, and studying how weirdly pale and bony he’s gotten. Heroin hasn’t exactly been kind to his appearance. He counts himself lucky he wasn’t on it for very long.

Although it is practically all he can think about anymore, he hopes he’ll never give into the drug again. In any form. Yasuko had already lost all extra fat that made her look human. By the time he left, she was a tall, stacked skeleton with flesh stretched across the frame. He has to stop thinking about her as soon as he starts though, Yasuko makes his whole body hurt with loss.

He exits the bathroom as another guy enters, looking tired, green, and drained. Another zombie in this house of zombies. When he nearly runs headlong into the next guy in the hallway, Kuroo has to do a double-take when the face he’s met with is bright, smiling, pink-cheeked, and healthy.

“Oops! Sorry about that.” the stranger apologizes, eyebrows lifting high with concern.

Kuroo just stares.

He’s got the most beautiful, most genuine face he’s seen since he got here. Dark hair gives way to strange shifting gray and white highlights that stand straight up from his head, while gold/green eyes sparkle with kindness. His frame is built and muscular, but not overly so. He’s wearing gym shorts and a cotton t-shirt with the sleeve on one arm rolled up into his armpit that provides Kuroo with a great view of his bicep.

“Uh,” Kuroo says intelligently.

The guy rubs at the back of his head self-consciously and laughs. “Actually, I’m looking for the bathroom. It’s down this way, right?”

“Mmhm.” Kuroo points dumbly toward the door he just exited.

“Thanks.” He brushes past and gives Kuroo a bright grin before leaning against the door. “Maybe I’ll see you later today! I run the fitness group. My name’s Bokuto Koutarou”

“Oh. Yeah. Maybe.” Kuroo agrees slowly.

The dude just continues to stare at him expectantly, one hand on the door. Kuroo jolts when he realizes he’s waiting for an introduction. “I’m Kuroo. Tetsuro.”

“Nice to meet you Tetsuro!” He practically shouts the words into the echoing hallway before pushing through to the bathroom and letting the door swing closed behind him.

Kuroo shakes his head. Now there’s a guy who was way too intense, way too happy, and way too handsome to be in here.

 

Back in his room, Toru rolls over to face him, eyes bleary with sleep.

“Where’d you go?”

“Bathroom.”

He shuffles onto the mattress and scoots under the comforter after a moment of hesitation. The room is still dim, but there are more morning sounds from outside and down the hall making themselves present. Toru shimmies away from the relative coldness he let into his cocoon but Kuroo catches hold and pulls him against his chest.

“Where are you going?”

He merely whines in protest as Kuroo plants his feet against his warm skin.

Aside from wiggling a little when Kuroo laughs in his ear, Toru doesn’t make a move to get away like he thought he would. And he has to admit, it’s kind of nice to hold someone again. A nice change from feeling so helpless and worthless the last few days.

“Did you know this place has a fitness group?” He whispers into Toru’s ear, mainly to watch him twist in discomfort.

“Stop doing that,” one of the hands under the comforter swats at his thigh. “You get to join after you complete detox.”

“Oh. Cool.” Kuroo skims one hand against Toru’s side. “I met the instructor. He’s kind of adorable.”

“What?” his head lifts off the pillow briefly.

Kuroo laughs at his annoyed reaction. “I’m just trying to motivate us.”

“Ugh. You’re disturbing.”

“Hmm…” Kuroo hugs him tighter. “Thanks for keeping the bed warm. Did you have any more nightmares?”

“No, actually. I slept pretty good,” he admits. “Thanks for letting me sleep over.”

“Anytime.”

Toru raises an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation?”

Kuro’s not even horny. Hasn’t been since coming off the drugs, but his words seem strangely tempting. “Sure.”

Toru flips over so they are nose to nose. It’s so impossibly close, and somehow more intimate than they were just seconds previous. “Good.” He only says the one word before their lips connect.

Kuroo feels grimy. Not just from waking up, but from the mere fact that he’s here. A disgraced, unemployed, slowly sobering, Loser. He couldn't keep a job. Couldn’t keep up a druggie lifestyle before quitting after a few months. Couldn’t keep his girlfriend interested in him. Can’t keep anything good around him at all. _So why is he being kissed?_

Quickly he pushes back, staring in shock at his bedmate. “What are you doing?”

Toru blinks. “I don’t know,” then looks confused, “You offered!”

“Sorry, guess I didn’t expect you to accept so quickly.”

“You’re a dumb-dumb Tetsu-chan.” he chides.

They kiss again. Kuroo can feel the hesitancy in Toru but doesn’t move to reassure him.

“So, can I come over sometimes?” hands are pushed into Kuroo’s hair and he lies still as the fingers glide in and out, scratching his scalp slightly.

“‘Course. Whenever you want.”

“But you don’t wanna fool around right now?”

Kuroo gulps. He only crept into Toru’s room the other night because he was lonely, scared, and a little bit bored. He didn’t expect to begin a secret love affair. “Honestly, I’m feeling a little barf-y.”

“Aw, poor Baby.” Toru runs a hand down his stomach lightly and props himself up on his elbow to blink down at him.

“When did you stop feeling sick?” Kuroo asks.

“Well, I’ve been here for about,” he pauses to calculate silently, “two weeks, now. I still feel sick, but it took about two weeks to stop vomiting constantly.”

He nods and turns to stare into the distance.

“You can say ‘no’, you know?” Toru keeps a hand on his stomach, petting it slowly. “I didn’t mean to…” He stops to swallow audibly. “I mean, you have a girlfriend don’t you?”

“I don’t think so.” Kuroo’s voice has gone quiet. “Not anymore.” When Toru finally looks back down at him he transforms his face into one of his Cheshire grins. “I’d love to fool around with you when I feel better. Sound like a deal?”

“Deal.”

They seal it with a kiss.

 

***

 

Ukai Keishin does not look like a typical therapist. For one, his hair is dyed blonde. It makes him look like an aging, angsty teenager. For another, he talks like an aging teenager, with weird dated phrases and exclamations. It was a little off-putting at first, but now Oikawa understands it’s part of a method to make him feel at ease. As if they can talk as equals. As if his suicide attempt was just a phase of teen rebelliousness. The whole charade makes him feel juvenile and inferior. Not very conducive for intimate conversation.

At the moment, he’s running a little inner debate with himself about whether Ukai’s appearance is an act for their sessions, or if he really does dress like a nineteen-year-old doofus.

Keishin himself is quietly regarding Oikawa from over the top of steepled fingers. Probably having a similar inner conversation about his patient.

“I know talking hasn’t really been our style.” He says after a moment’s contemplation, “So I want you to just close your eyes. Today I want to guide you through a kind of meditation process.”

Oikawa studies Ukai’s face, but finding nothing menacing there, shuts his eyes obediently.

“This is something you can do on your own. Anytime you start feeling isolated or distant from others.”

Oikawa hears him pause for breath, and allows his eyes to adjust further to the darkness behind his eyelids.

“I just want you to first, relax. Take a deep breath. In and out.”

They breathe heavily, out of rhythm with each other.

“Become aware of your body. Feel your chest as you breathe. Relax your muscles.”

Oikawa lets the words wash over him. The darkness of his own head is a relief.

“I want you to form a mental picture of all the people who love and care about you. Think about anyone who you talk to regularly, picture their faces in your mind.”

Oikawa resists the urge to open one eyelid. As much as he feels like a petulant child, he mustn’t give in. Surviving these sessions means surviving this place.

“Do you have a mental picture? Can you see all your loved ones?”

Oikawa fights a smirk off his mouth in case Ukai has his eyes open.

“Let their faces fill your mind. Let their love come over you.”

This is when he stops paying attention.

Ukai continues to drone on, but Oikawa ignores them. He keeps his eyes shut tight, lets the darkness close around him like a hood. He feels an invisible rope slip silently around his throat. He imagines it tightening. At first slowly, then increasing in pressure. His breath gets caught and he lets himself sink further into the rope. He imagines his trachea folding under the steady press.

“You are loved. You are appreciated. You are valued.”

Oikawa grits his teeth and focuses on the lack of air in his lungs. The darkness presses in, smothering in its entirety.

Ukai’s voice seems to cut through. “Let yourself feel. Remember.”

After struggling not to breathe for a few more moments, Oikawa lets out a small, strangled gasp and hopes it isn’t noticeable.

“Let their love and light fill your life.”

Oikawa opens his eyes to see Ukai, still chanting his mantras. Serene, meditative, blind to his suffering.

 

***

 

The game room is quickly becoming one of the rooms Kuroo hates most here. And that’s saying a lot since he’s come to abhor many parts of the recovery center. From the bathroom where he spends hours shivering, vomiting, and doing other unspeakables, to the bedroom where insomnia plagues his mind and turns the walls and ceiling into a cage. There’s also the group therapy rooms where uncomfortable chairs give way to even more uncomfortable conversations and confessions. But the game room is supposed to be safe, a “fun” room, where patients can relax, ignore the recovery process for a moment, and indulge in things like Scrabble, chess, reading, and other battered board games.

What should be an enjoyable space is quickly soured by the patients he shares it with. There’s one incredibly cranky bastard who is always alone, reading a newspaper and snaps if anyone’s too loud. He’s in his usual spot today, small wiry frame bristling with warning from behind the crinkling pages of print. Another couple of bozos always seem to be playing an extremely high-stakes game of Connect Four. Every time the pieces rattle out the bottom they cheer or boo and there’s always a huffy glare from newspaper guy.

If Oikawa were here he’d probably be huffing too.

It’s another reason why the game room isn’t as pleasant as first promised. His one and only friend here never seems to join in when they have free time. He has some kind of private therapy session with one of the counselors. It’s all very mysterious.

It’s also extremely irritating. Any other time they’re together but trapped in group activities or at assigned lunch tables. So the one time they have a chance to actually hang out without interruption, they can’t. He wishes he knew why he has private sessions. Not everyone does. Kuroo doesn’t. Maybe he’s just not special enough.

Luckily, he’s found a small respite from everything on the other side of the room where there are a couple of armchairs and couches. He’s passive-aggressively taken up all the space on one couch with his long limbs, and luckily one of the armchairs is already filled with one of the rare, female residents. She’s curled up on the cushion, knees near her chest as she flips through a small book of poetry. She’s extremely beautiful. She's also extremely quiet and unapproachable, making their spot a bit more peaceful. He’s seen her around the facility a bit but has never heard her say a word. She exudes intimidation from beneath the sleeves of tattoos going down her arms and up her neck, the dark curtain of hair, and her exquisitely proportioned face. If he hadn’t just gotten out of a relationship with a similar-looking vixen, Kuroo might have been tempted to flirt a little. As it is, Oikawa is the only person here talkative enough to draw out that side of him anymore.

He appreciates her lack of conversation. It means he can sit here, pretend to read his book and try not to feel nauseous without being disturbed.

“Kuroo, Tetsuro? You have a visitor.” his head snaps up from where he’s been idly scanning the chapter in front of him.

_A visitor?_ That could only mean his mom, or maybe Yasuko finally came around. Though he sincerely doubts it’s the latter, he can’t really stop his heart from skipping a few nervous beats as he makes his way to the half-open door. The young volunteer staff member who called his name beckons him through and down the hall.

“You’ll have to wait in here while they get checked in.” she informs him while directing him toward a chair in an empty hallway.

He nods as she walks quickly away.

It’s probably not her. He has to remind himself not to get his hopes up.

Kuroo’s never had a relationship end as badly as it did with Yasuko. Every time he thinks about it, a gnawing feeling of guilt starts to grow in his gut. It’s ironic because ultimately, he was the one roughly shoved down two flights of stairs. He still has the fading bruises along his legs and back to prove it, too. Yet, he still longs for some kind of closure. Some chance to know she’s still okay and alive, and relatively happy. He had to leave her while she was so angry, and that stings.

The visiting rooms are small, cloistered, and slightly claustrophobic. When Kuroo enters one for the first time, the only things he notices are the two chairs and the one that’s currently occupied.

Kenma Kozume isn’t usually the focus of a room, but in this one, he has no choice.

“Kenma.” Kuroo blinks and quickly sits, feeling awkward in the cramped closet-of-a-room. Kenma avoids his eyes.

“Tetsu. I hope you don’t mind…” he trails off.

“No!” Kuroo lowers his voice, embarrassed at the sudden volume. “No. I don’t mind.”

Kenma nods, seemingly to himself, before adding, “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.” Kuroo scoots forward. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine.”

“Yeah? How’s work? You’re still at that programming place?”

Kenma nods. “It’s good. We’ve been busy.”

An uncomfortable silence falls and Kuroo resists the urge to cross and uncross his legs.

Then Kenma speaks again, voice small and unsure. “Your mom, um, told me where to find you.”

“Oh,” Kuroo doesn’t know what to say. Was he supposed to send all his friends and acquaintances a forwarding address and visiting hours? _Because guess what guys? I’m a failure and am trying to get sober. Come visit anytime._

“I thought you were still living with Yasuko when you were fired…”

“I was. I only came here about a week ago.”

“Oh,”

The same thick quiet descends.

“Is she…?”

Kuroo can hear the question without Kenma voicing it. “We broke up. I don’t… She’s… Yeah.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Kuroo turns and regards the ugly motivational poster framed on the wall next to his head. It never used to be this awkward talking to his childhood friend. A lot has changed.

“I met Akaashi-san.” Kenma sys.

“The director?” Kuroo looks back in surprise.

“He seems very good. Very wise, about these things.”

“I think he was a former addict.”

Kenma meets his eyes this time and smiles. “It’s good they have some first-hand experience here, I guess.”

Kuroo grins to see the familiar crinkles around his friend’s eyes. “Definitely.”

It’s like some kind of non-existent window has been opened and a breeze is sweeping out all the lingering awkwardness and hesitancy.

“Can I ask how is started? The drugs?”

Kuroo leans back and crosses his ankles in front of him. “‘Course. But I think you can guess, it all started with a girl.”

Kenma rolls his eyes. “You’re so predictable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, let me know if I need to update or change anything. Make sure you let me know if you liked it as well!


	3. Detox Complete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo and Oikawa make some new connections.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (late) Halloween!
> 
> I was going to post this yesterday in honor of my favorite holiday, but alas, formatting issues barred my way. Sorry it's late!

Oikawa awakes in Tetsuro’s arms. It’s become  _ a thing _ between the two of them. The craving for physical touch, physical comfort, intensifying along with more urgent cravings. They switch rooms every night and no one seems to care if they share a bed. More and more their relationship seems to border on romantic or sexual, but somehow they never cross that line. Content to cuddle, share warmth, and drool on each other’s sheets. Tetsu always seems a bit hesitant, distant somehow, and Oikawa already has an arsenal of reasons why no one would be interested in him that way. 

They like each other for different reasons. For friendship, companionship, for common complaints and shared sorrows. They also share each other's triumphs. Each small milestone of sobriety and avoided relapse. Oikawa’s never had anyone he could talk to about the drugs before. 

Isolated by shame and guilt, he’s never been able to talk so freely about any of it. Associating now with a bunch of other druggies, he feels some sense of freedom, though not with everyone. Oikawa can flirt and tease and be himself more fully with Tetsuro. He knows he should share some of the same vulnerabilities with his counselor, but at the same time, he and Tetsu also keep secrets from each other. He hasn’t even told him why he sees a counselor in the first place. Just like Tetsu never talks about his mysterious ex-girlfriend.

****

At the moment, there is no secret what Tetsu might be dreaming about. Oikawa can feel his morning wood, long and half-hard against his leg. Heavy breathing billows against his back and shoulders. Oikawa can’t pass this up.

Rolling over, he has every intent to tease Tetsu to Kingdom Come. That is until he sees hooded, dark eyes staring back at him.

“Toru.”

Tetsuro’s morning-voice should be illegal. It’s too deep, too rough. It does things to Oikawa. With his mouth gone dry and wit escaping him, Oikawa simply lies still as his friend climbs over, swinging a leg around his hips and abruptly crashing their crotches together.

“Hi.” he finally manages to squeak.

“Had a dream about you,” Tetsu says, dipping a nose to his collarbone and slowly kissing the skin there. Even if they’ve cuddled, touched, pecked each other’s cheeks, they’ve never gone this far. Oikawa can’t deny he’s thought about it.

“A good dream?” he guesses.

“We’ll see.” Tetsu brings his mouth up to meet his. “Didn’t get to finish,” he explains once they break apart.

Oikawa shivers from scalp to toes. Tetsu continues to kiss him, thrusting a hand into his hair and gently working long fingers through it as they get into a rhythm.

“Is this okay?” He whispers after a moment.Oikawa nods eagerly, “Don’t stop.”

Tetsu groans and wriggles his hips, forcing a gasp out of Oikawa.

“Ready to get high Toru?”

He laughs breathlessly at that. It’s an inside joke they share about masturbation/sex being a high substitute among addicts.

“We’re going to feel so good.” Tetsuro makes the promise while kissing open-mouthed along his neck.

Oikawa believes him.

It’s funny, Tetsu always seems to ground him. Put him firmly in a reality where it’s better to live through the experience, good or bad, than just foggily float through it. Something about the way he can look right into his eyes and really see him, it makes Oikawa feel real.

****

It doesn’t take long, but with a few deft squeezes, sloppy spit-made lube, and even sloppier kisses, they both climax through a couple of rough hand-jobs. Then lie panting, side-by-side in the wet patch they’ve created and wait for their breathing to even out. It’s not as satisfying as taking a few pills and falling out of his head, but sex still feels pretty great.

“Good work, Tetsu-chan.” Oikawa praises him with a pat on the arm which makes it feel a bit like congratulating a teammate after a volleyball match rather than lying post-coital with a lover.

“Was it good for you?” Tetsu asks.

Oikawa raises up on one arm, bedhead falling all over his face. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He scoots over and wraps his long arms around Oikawa’s middle. “I just want you to feel good.”

“Oh, was that all for my benefit?” he teases. 

“Not even a little. That was pure stress relief.” Tetsu winks. 

He feels awkward and exposed now, pants jumbled with the sheets at the end of the bed, and shirt bunched up around his armpits. He struggles to pull it down around Tetsu’s embrace. “Excuse you.” 

Tetsu grumbles but rolls away. Somehow he got completely nude during their copulation and doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get dressed. Oikawa pulls up his pajama pants anyway, shutting out the draft of the deteriorating facility dorm room. 

“Getting dressed already?” 

Oikawa turns with a raised brow. “I’m cold.” 

Tetsu sits up on one elbow and draws up one of the blankets in invitation. 

After snuggling in, Oikawa turns to him and traces a finger down his chest. “So, what’s the occasion?”

“I don’t feel like a human barf bag?” Tetsu laughs quietly. “But I really did have a dream about you.”

“Should I be flattered?”

“Obviously! We just got off, didn’t we?.” He moves up to leave slow kisses along the column of his throat. 

“Sure.” Oikawa smiles. He’s starting to feel wary. How casual are they supposed to be? 

“I wanted to make you feel good. Seems like you’ve been sad lately.” Kuroo touches his cheek and draws another arm around him. 

Oikawa blinks, heart suddenly thudding too loud in his chest. “And you thought a hand-job would make everything all better?” he sneers.

“No.” Tetsu blushes. “Of course not. I just wanted to let you know I’m here for you and I care about you.”

Oikawa feels frozen. It sounds like a speech he’s heard many times. Did someone tell him about his suicide attempt? Tetsuro was his one real friend here. If he suddenly starts giving him those looks his counselor or his sister give him… 

He wants nothing more than to jump out of bed and walk far, far away from this conversation. Tetsu’s arms keep him trapped, and this is his room.

Tetsu sighs and curls around him further, stroking a hand down his side. 

“You can talk to me. I mean, we’re friends, right?.” He kisses his lips again. “And I kind of like you, ya know. If it wasn’t already obvious.”

Oikawa stays silent but allows Tetsuro to continue kissing and petting him. Hands skim over his chest, around his sides, down his stomach. Small presses of lips travel up his cheeks.

Maybe he’s overreacting. Tetsu doesn’t know. How could he? A spark of hope flares in him. Maybe Tetsu really does like him more than just a friend. Maybe this morning was more than mutual physical contact. He remembers the sound of him saying his first name in that rough voice, full of want. No one’s ever said his name like that before.

“I’m scared I’m going to relapse,” he whispers after a while.

“Don’t be scared, Babe.”

“I’m going to be released eventually,” Oikawa says slowly. “Drugs are all I think about. Even if I don’t want to, I know I will.”

Tetsu moves a hand to his thigh and rubs it. “They’re always telling us, just take it one day at a time, right?”

Oikawa nods. He knows all the coping methods they’ve been taught.

“So if you have a bad day, just come visit me here. If nothing else, my ugly mug might motivate you to do better. Plus, they almost expect a relapse in the first release. It won’t mean you’re a failure or anything, just another common statistic.”

He smiles wanly at the sentiment. “Thanks, Tetsu-chan.”

“Don’t feel bad, Doll.”

_ Right. _ Oikawa thinks.

****

***

****

Group therapy seems to have intensified since Kuroo completed detox. Not that he’s complaining. Oikawa attends these meetings which makes them much more bearable. This session has been especially emotional though, and all the levity Kuroo brought with him has been drained completely. He’s also starting to feel slightly ill. Detox may be officially over, but he’s not sure his body will ever be the same without heroin. And at the moment, staring at the beautiful, inked, and ever-unapproachable Kiyoko become grotesque in her tears and anguished screaming, his stomach begins to churn with more than just nausea. Memories of Yasuko and her rage at him are suddenly harder to keep at bay.

“...I hate that. I  _ hate _ it!” Kiyoko’s voice reaches an unbearable pitch again. “I hate that I can’t change who I was and what I did.”

This is probably the most anyone at the facility has heard her speak. The way it’s interrupted with rasping sobs and screams has them all spellbound, and not in a good way. “I was such a fucking BITCH!”

“Okay,” Sugawara, the counselor moderating this session looks a little nonplussed as he interjects for the first time since Kiyoko took over. “Can anyone else relate to what Shimizu is saying?”

Kiyoko’s muffled crying is deafening in the silence. Yaku, the huffy newspaper guy as Kuroo’s come to know him, puts an arm around her shoulder and looks dead-eyed at the counselor.

Sugawara starts again on a different track. “Accepting addiction often comes with accepting a lot more than just drugs. We have to understand the things we did while addicted, why we did them. Coming to accept those things can be painful.”

Kuroo hunches forward, resting the mess of hair on his hands and feeling sicker than ever.

“I know I always end up talking about myself in here.” Sugawara-san half-laughs. “But sometimes it helps to hear from someone who’s come out the other side.”

Oikawa shifts next to him, his face intent on the counselor’s.  

As Suga begins monologuing about self-acceptance and past drug use, Kuroo’s thoughts drift back to Yasuko.

It’s mid-afternoon. She’s probably high. Her dealer always came by the first of the week which means she’s running low at this point. Kuroo can see her in his mind’s eye. Spread out long and languid atop her king mattress. Probably wearing only underwear to keep out the summer heat. The room smelling of drugs and that heavy, heady perfume she always wears. He can almost smell it. Feel the sweat shimmering on her bare legs. Taste the desperate cottonmouth he always got at the end of a high.

Kuroo stands abruptly. Sugawara shifts an eye to him as he talks but doesn’t stop him from walking out. There are no rules about staying in group therapy, just social courtesies.

Kuroo doesn’t look back as he exits and makes a hard left for the nearest Men’s room. Gasping, he lands on his knees in front of a cold, familiar porcelain sight. He waits, trembling, for his stomach to let him know if he’s losing his lunch today.

“Tetsuro? Are you okay?”   
“I don’t wanna talk right now Toru.” He croaks.

“What happened?” The heavy footfalls alert him to a different presence than he expected. Kuroo turns to find a concerned-looking fitness counselor standing behind him. The same cute one he ran into on one of his first weeks here.

“Oh. Um, nothing,” he says intelligently.

The dude blinks. Kuroo again notices the peculiar golden/green hue of his eyes. “Are you going to be sick?”

After a quick self-assessment, Kuroo shakes his head. “No. I think I’m okay.” And it’s true. For the most part, his nausea seems to have faded.

“Do you need a hand?” He reaches out and Kuroo takes hold, letting him heave up most of his body weight. It’s only then he notices he’s still shaking. “Woah,” without letting go of his hand, the stranger pulls Kuroo firmly into his arms. It takes him a few minutes to realize he’s being hugged. “You’re shivering Man!”

“Sorry,” Kuroo whispers weakly, sagging against him.

“I’ll help you to your room.”

They adjust so Kuroo is pressed close to his side, being helped by the man’s arm around his middle.

“Thanks, uh, I forgot your name,” Kuroo admits as they leave the restroom.

“Bokuto.”

“Oh, well. Thanks.” He says.

“I’m glad I found you! You looked like you’re going to pass out.”

Kuroo chuckles. The feeling of his warm bicep wrapped around him makes him feel stable, safe. “If I pass out now, you’ll catch me?”

“Definitely. I got you.” He gets a firm squeeze with the words. “What’s your room number?”

Kuroo tells him and they make their way slowly but surely toward the male dormitories. As Bokuto helps him sit down on his bed a moment later, he clutches at the fabric of Bokuto’s sleeves, as if he doesn’t want him to leave. Kuroo knows he just doesn’t want to be alone.

“Look, if you ever need something, just let me know,” Bokuto says sincerely, his own hands clasped around both his shoulders.

“Thanks.”

“Do you need anything right now? I could get a glass of water?” He offers.

“Dude. What I could really use is some heroin.” Kuroo says, pathetically honest.

“Oh.” Bokuto looks surprised until he takes in Kuroo’s wan smile. “Well, we’re fresh out.”

They chuckle together and he finally releases him. “Hey, if I happen to see some just lying around…”

“I’m hooked up?” Kuroo wags an eyebrow.

“Actually I’ll probably confiscate it, but nice try.” He smiles with all his teeth.

“Dang. Well, thanks anyway.”

“Hey, you’re coming to fitness group soon, right?” Bokuto gives him a hopeful look from the doorway.

“I’ll come if you’re in charge.”

Bokuto winks. “I can boss you around if that’s what you like.”

“Done.” Kuroo seals the deal with a wink of his own. He feels apprehensive as the counselor leaves, but the lonely feeling doesn’t come back right away.

****

***

****

Rather than being sickened by the omnipresent stench of cabbage that seems to linger in the cafeteria, Oikawa finds himself sickened by the fact that it’s making him hungry. Talking to his counselor is always draining. Ukai just doesn’t let up. But today, in addition to the regular mental fatigue, Oikawa is hungry as well. He should probably be happy his appetite has returned. Detoxing has made most food sounds like future vomit rather than fuel. Though, now that the smell of day-old cabbage is making him salivate, he finds it’s enough to feel sick again. He plunks down at a seat rather than going to get food with the other patients. Even if he is hungry, who’s to say he won’t end up shivering and vomiting it up in just a few hours?

“How are you feeling today, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa jolts and flushes, realizing that the one extremely hot counselor is standing right behind him. He may have been purposefully avoiding Iwazumi-san for the past few weeks specifically because of his unfair looks. Tetsu is similarly attractive, with his masculine build and dark coloring, but since he’s a fellow addict, he’s approachable, touchable. Iwazumi, as a counselor, is on an entirely different plane of existence. 

“I feel okay. Better than yesterday.”

“That’s good to hear.”

To Oikawa’s horror, Iwazumi takes a seat next to him.

“I heard you’ve been becoming friendly with some other patients?” He says it in a questioning tone, opening it up for comment. “I was happy to hear that. I know making connections can be difficult after what you’ve been through.”

“Yeah. Kuroo Tetsurou moved in across the hall from me recently.”

“And you’ve found you have some things in common.” Iwazumi guesses.

_ Oh god _ .  _ He knows they’ve been sneaking into each other’s rooms. _

Oikawa tries to school his face into something neutral. Maybe Iwazumi doesn’t actually know. Or maybe he’s trying to trap him. Trying to get him to slip up, mention something he shouldn’t.

“I’m glad.” He smiles softly. Iwazumi-san doesn’t smile much, but when he does, it’s all the more genuine for its rarity. “I hope you’re feeling welcome here. I know it can’t be easy.”

Oikawa manages a nod before Iwazumi stands, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he does. “We’re all rooting for you. I hope you know that. I certainly am.”

Oikawa watches him walk away feeling rather foolish.

“Hey, Doll.” Tetsuro appears with a tray of food and takes the seat opposite of him. “Did you get a warning from the counselor or something?”

“A warning? No.”

“Ah,” he stops to swallow a bite. “You had a funny look on your face. Like you did something wrong.”

“I’m innocent of whatever you think I did,” Oikawa says loftily. “Where’d you go, by the way? I thought you might be skipping lunch.”

“Oh yeah,” he chews thoughtfully, “I had a visitor.”

“Oh?”

“An old friend of mine. The one I told you about. He came over again.”

“Not Yasuko?” Oikawa says the name softly but Tetsuro jerks like he’s shouted.

“No.”

The shift in tone lets Oikawa know the conversation has ended. “You know, the food here isn’t half bad.” He tries weakly, nodding at Tetsuro’s plate.

“You would know,” he flashes an evil grin. “Chubby.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve put on some weight.” Tetsu closes one eye and regards him clinically. “It looks good. Makes you look less like a depressed skeleton.”

Oikawa glares at him. “Once food starts staying with you, I can’t wait to watch you balloon up.”

“Honestly, I can’t wait until food starts to sound good again.” Testu sighs. “At least it’ll be a distraction from other cravings.”

“And thus, the chub.” Oikawa huffs.

Tetsu laughs, the sound echoing through the cavernous cafeteria. “Are you mad?”

Oikawa rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be. I’m serious, you look good. Chipmunk-cheeks and all.” A new, horrible expression crosses his face, one of glee and the promise of teasing to come. “I think Iwazumi-san likes it too.”

Oikawa feels a blush claw its way around his ears.

Tetsu smirks before popping a carrot stick into his mouth. “I knew it. You  _ do _ have a crush on him.”

He just stares back stonily, the hot blush on his face giving too much away without the need to speak. If he keeps quiet, Tetsu will quit teasing once he feels he’s on the high ground again. That mention of Yasuko must have really annoyed him.

“I don’t need your cheeks all to myself by the way,” he winks. “I don’t mind sharing.”

“Are you nuts?” Oikawa blurts. “I’m not going to come onto a counselor!”

Tetsuro shrugs. “Why not? I’m going for Bokuto. I think I have a chance”

“You’re disgusting.”

“That’s what she said.”

Oikawa stands and gives him one of his best Haughty Glares. “I’m gonna grab some food.”

“Make sure you get the good stuff,” he waves him off. “Gotta keep your figure after all.”

“Let me know when you’re ready to act your age.” he shoots back. Turning back around, he nearly walks right into the broad shoulders of Iwazumi himself.

Oikawa gasps audibly.  _ How much of that conversation did he hear? _

“Oh, excuse me Toru.”

Hearing his first name out of that beautiful mouth leaves Oikawa speechless for a few embarrassing seconds. Iwazumi’s own face breaks out in a slight sweat, prickling with pink.

“Sorry.” He finally rasps.

Iwazumi stands to one side, making a small movement to let him know he can pass by freely. Oikawa nearly trips over his own feet trying to remove himself from the situation. When he turns back for a last glance, he can see Iwazumi’s reddening face disappear behind a pillar as well as hear Tetsu’s crowing laughter.

****

***

****

“Heeey! Tetsu!” The drawn-out greeting crackles over the landline connection. “Where ya been Bro?”

“Hey,” Kuroo tries in vain to muffle the echo that carries through the hall as he hisses into the receiver. “What’s up Bun?”

Kuroo’s not sure where the nickname Bunny came from. It always feels too affectionate when said aloud. Like a pet name for a cute girl, rather than the stringy, deadbeat dealer.

“Looking for a hit? I got a couple with your name on ‘em if you got the cash.”

Kuroo’s body has a visceral, almost physical reaction to the temptation offered. He has to bite down on the side of his cheek until it bleeds before answering. “Nah, I’m just calling to see if you’ve been in touch with Yasuko lately.”

“Kuku?” Bunny’s voice goes high in surprise. “Haven’t seen her in about a month.”

“A month?” That doesn’t make sense. But Kuroo can’t give Bunny too much information so he keeps his reaction subdued. “Damn.”

“Thought you two lovebirds were always together these days anyway.” He says.

Kuroo laughs breathily. “You know how she gets.” he hopes it’s enough to sate Bunny’s curiosity on the subject. “Anyway, I was kind of worried. Hadn’t heard from her in a while.”

“Wait,” Bunny’s voice takes on a lower decibel, “I did hear from Jay. He said you left Kuku and went to rehab.”

Kuroo waits, hands sweating against the plastic of the phone.

“You in there now?”   
Mouth dry, Kuroo can’t seem to form a response.

“Don’t call me again.” Bunny hangs up and Kuroo lets the receiver slide from his grip.

Another contact wasted and no information gained. He pushes the phone back into place and forces himself to walk away.

Maybe this is what has to happen. Maybe he just has to walk away from Yasuko. Leave her, along with the drugs and addiction in the past. A clean break would probably be easiest. But even walking to the end of the hall, Kuroo can feel that same aching emptiness. The fading bruises on his back where the edges of the stairs bucked against him. The hole that Yasuko ripped in his chest.

He just wants to feel her next to him again. Smell her skin, hold her small hand, taste her mouth. Make sure she’s safe. He knows how good, how fun, how kind she could be. But Kuroo also knows what a dangerous path lay before her and what kind of thoughts were in her head when he left. He shouldn’t have left her like that.

He was the one who picked himself up out of that stairwell and walked away. He remembers deciding in that moment that he was going to walk away. Now, as he reaches the end of the hallway he makes the same decision again.

Walking away for good. No looking back. The past is the past. Whatever happens to Yasuko isn’t his fault.

Kuroo doesn’t use the facility phone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the slow updates! I have a feeling it will be a trend, especially with this next chapter. I just have a lot going on with work and many other things in my life:/  
> But if you can leave a kudos or comment, it will probably help keep me motivated in the coming weeks!

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I'm not afraid of corrections so feel free. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and let me know if you enjoyed:)


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